


Arrows and Sashes

by octopus_fool



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Crossover, Gen, Humor, Inappropriate Behavior, Innuendo, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-13
Updated: 2017-02-23
Packaged: 2018-09-23 23:49:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9688205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/octopus_fool/pseuds/octopus_fool
Summary: Thorin's company needs money for their quest. Desperately. Luckily, Gandalf knows someone who has just the job for them...





	1. Chapter 1

Glóin peered into the chest with the funds for the quest and frowned. “This will only buy us the lamest of ponies and not even enough supplies to get us to the Shire. Either we wait another year until we start our journey or we need to come up with a way to earn quite a sum of money fast.”

The other dwarves exchanged concerned looks.

“There is only so much forging that the villages of Men need done,” Thorin said. “And I’m afraid there aren’t even many more heirlooms we can sell.”

Gandalf cleared his throat. “I may have an idea. An old friend of mine knows someone who wants to hire some dwarves. I’m afraid you might not find the job quite as enjoyable as working in a forge, but since you need the money....”

“What would we have to do?” Dwalin asked suspiciously.

“Oh, do not worry. It is not that terrible. It’s not as though you’ll be hired to kill anyone. He just needs messengers for some completely harmless messages. The job will only be for one day and the pay is enough to fill that chest very nicely indeed.”

“I suppose it doesn’t sound too horrible,” Thorin said. “Who is willing to take this job in order to help finance our quest to regain Erebor?”

All of the dwarves raised their hands.

“Splendid!” Gandalf said. “Dumbledore will be very pleased.”

 

“So where do we have to go?” Balin asked as all the dwarves stood in the cold morning just outside the dwarven town in the Blue Mountains.

“This is the unpleasant part,” Gandalf replied. “I need you all to keep a tight hold on your neighbours and I will take you there.”

There was quite a bit of suspicious muttering, but in the end, all the dwarves clustered together around Gandalf and held on to each other. Gandalf held onto Thorin’s shoulder and after a very unpleasant spinning sensation, they all tumbled into a heap on the grass.

They untangled themselves, complaining and grumbling before they noticed that they were standing before the gates of an enormous castle. 

A tall man with half-moon glasses, a purple robe and twinkling eyes strode towards them.

“Dumbledore, my old friend!” Gandalf said with a wide smile. “It has been too long. These are Thorin Oakenshield and his companions.”

The dwarves bowed and offered their names and service.

“Welcome to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry,” the other wizard said after offering his service as well. “Let us go inside, I am sure Professor Lockhart will already be waiting for you. I’m afraid he couldn’t come and greet you himself; his curls needed taking care of.”

“There is an entire school for wizards?” Ori asked in astonishment. “I thought there were just Gandalf and a few others!”

“That may be true where you are from,” Dumbledore replied, “but the wonderful thing about magic is that it enables journeys to places that would otherwise be completely out of reach.”

Ori eagerly asked him more questions until they reached the castle, where a man with lurid pink robes and curly blond hair was waiting for them.

“My dear dwarves! I have heard so much about you and no doubt you have been eager to meet the man you have been told so much about as well!” He gave Thorin a hearty thump on the back and began steering him inside.

Thorin glared at him and ducked away from his hand. “Who are you?”

A look of disappointment briefly replaced the man’s smile, but he quickly regained his bearings.  
“Oh dear, Professor Dumbledore really wasn’t exaggerating when he mentioned you were from quite far away. Still, I can’t believe you have never even heard of Gilderoy Lockhart and his many achievements. I will have to give you some of my books to rectify that.”

He led them through down a corridor and up some stairs. The dwarves stared at the moving portraits and clung on for dear life when one of the staircases started moving. 

Finally, they stopped in what looked like a large, old classroom. Lockhart ushered them all in. The two old wizards hung back at the door, wearing almost identical, perfectly blank expressions that made Thorin uneasy. 

“This is such a wonderful opportunity, such a wonderful opportunity indeed,” the blond wizard began saying. “As Gandalf has probably told you already, you will be delivering valentines between the students.”

Ori tugged on Dori’s sleeve. “What’s a ‘valentine’?”

“That’s probably just the word they use here for ‘message’,” Dori whispered back. “That’s what Gandalf said we’d be doing: delivering messages.”

“These maps that Professor Dumbledore created with my help will guide you where you want to go,” Lockhart said as Dumbledore began handing them each a map. “Just think about wanting to find someone who wants to send a valentine and they will show up on this map in pink. If you think about wanting to deliver that valentine, the recipient will show in green, with the name of the sender showing up beside them. The maps will also keep count of how many valentines each of you has delivered. Which brings us to the boring part, the contract and the payment, which Professor Dumbedore can explain. I’m sure you would enjoy the task in itself, who wouldn’t? I’d do it myself, if I didn’t have far more important things to do. This is, after all, the day when hormones run high.” Lockhart leaned back against the wall, clearly pleased with himself.

“Thank you, Gilderoy,” Dumbledore said, turning towards the dwarves and leaving Lockhart to preen his hair. “As was agreed with Gandalf, you will receive a set amount of gold before you return to your own world as well as a bonus for each valentine you have delivered. You will no doubt be wanting to read through the contract yourself before we sign it. Thorin Oakenshield and one witness will sign it, as per your customs, if I remember correctly?” 

Thorin nodded and stepped forward with Balin to read and sign the contract. 

“Very good, thank you,” Dumbledore said once it was done. “Was there anything else?”

“Oh dear, I’ve nearly forgotten the most important part!” Lockhart exclaimed. “It would only be half as fun without the proper attire!”

Lockhart waved a thin stick through the air and a stack of pale pink cloth appeared.

Dwalin tugged at a pink corner distastefully and pulled out a long stretch of fabric. “What in Mahal’s name is this?”

“Togas! One size to fit all and very appropriate for the occasion! Here, let me demonstrate.”

Lockhart grabbed hold of Óin, who was standing closest to him, and took one of the stretches of fabric. He spun Óin around several times, wrapping him in the pink fabric before fastening it over his shoulder with a golden clasp.

“There you go! Of course, you will have to lose your other clothes first; it looks a bit ridiculous this way. I would recommend all of you take a look at my newest book, ‘Stylish Me’ when it is published this spring anyway. I dare say even a king could profit from my fashion tips.”  
He waited as if expecting approval but was met with a long, hostile silence.

Finally, Thorin spoke up. “You expect us to wear _those things_?!”

“Oh, there are a few more accessories, don’t worry.” Lockhart waved the stick a few more times and piles of sashes, harps, golden wings and pink sandals appeared.

The dwarves stared at the piles for a few moments, then Thorin spun around and glared at Gandalf. The wizard shrugged his shoulders and smiled a benign smile.

“I am not wearing this!” Glóin burst out.

Thorin took a deep breath and turned back to the dwarves.  
“We need the money,” he said through clenched teeth. “It is just for one day and nobody we know will see us. We will do this and then forget it ever happened. That is my order as the leader of this company. Is that clear?” 

The others nodded and hesitantly began stripping their clothes to don the togas and sashes. The wizards charmed the wings onto their backs.

“What are you two doing?” Thorin asked Fíli and Kíli, who were standing in a corner laughing.

“We thought that if we are going to make fools of ourselves, we might as well be thorough,” Fíli replied while holding still as Kíli tied magenta ribbons to the braids of his moustache. Kíli’s hair already showed quite a few ribbons braided in.

Kíli cast a look at Thorin and tried not to snigger. It was not every day that he got to see his uncle in a lurid pink toga with golden wings and a sash in a colour that made Kíli’s eyes water. The scowl on his face was also quite magnificent.

“Uncle Thorin, you must have forgotten the sandals. You are still wearing your boots!”

“I did not forget. I will not wear those sandals.”

Kíli grinned. “Of all the things you could object to about this outfit, you protest about the _sandals_?”

“I am not taking my boots off.”

Lockhart must have heard this. “But the sandals...”

Thorin glared at him and Lockhart trailed off. 

“Very well, the boots are, well... I guess they have their own unique... charm. In a rather... grungy kind of way. I hear that is all the rage with muggles at the moment. And I suppose there may have been one or two cherubs in history who have worn boots... not many, but...”

Thorin turned away from his rambling, picked up one of the golden harps and gave it an experimental pluck. The string gave a loud twang and snapped. He frowned.

“I have seen _children_ fashion instruments better than this. What a shoddy piece of work!” 

Dumbledore must have heard this and came over. He took a look at the harp through his half-moon glasses and nodded. “I’m afraid you are right. Whoever transfigured this needs a lot more practice. Wherever did you buy this, Gilderoy?”

Lockhart turned red and mumbled something incomprehensible.

“Don’t worry, it’s nothing a good wand won’t fix.”

The wizard waved the stick which Thorin assumed was the wand he was talking about at the harp. To Thorin’s amazement, the string repaired itself and after another wave of the wand, Dumbledore handed the harp back to Thorin. 

Thorin doubtfully plucked another string. His eyes widened.

“That’s... not entirely awful!”

Dumbledore smiled. “Yes, magic has its uses.”

Further conversation was prevented by a knock on the door. It creaked open and the dwarves all stared at the small creature that entered.

It had orc-like ears and a long nose that was much too thin and pointy. Its eyes were enormous.

The creature bowed ridiculously low. “Professor Dumbledore, sir, the Great Hall is set up and breakfast is ready to be served.”

“Thank you, Dinky. We will be down in a few minutes.”

The creature bowed again and hurried off.

“Wonderful creatures, these house-elves, even though they have absolutely no sense of fashion,” Lockhart remarked.

“ _That_ was an _elf_ ?!” Kíli asked in disbelief. 

“It didn’t look much like the elves I’ve seen,” Fíli agreed, “even though they are quite ugly as well.”

“Yes, that was a house-elf,” Dumbledore replied. “I suppose beauty lies in the eye of the beholder. And we should be on our way to the Great Hall.”

Thorin couldn’t help grinning slightly as the dwarves followed him out of the old classroom, occasionally fidgeting with their costumes. At least one good thing had happened on this awful day. If Thorin ever had the misfortune of meeting elves again, he would have the image of this ‘house-elf’ to keep himself entertained.


	2. Chapter 2

“This whole thing sounds rather dull,” Bofur said as they made their way towards the Great Hall. “How about we spice it up a bit by making it a competition? Whoever delivers most valentines and thus earns most bonus money for the company wins.”

“What’s the reward?” Gloin asked. “We can hardly use money since we need all that for the quest.”

“How about the loser takes over the winner’s shifts when on watch?” Ori piped in. “Wouldn’t that be a good incentive?”

“Sounds good to me,” Dwalin said and the others nodded.

“So is everybody joining in?” 

The others all nodded.

“So Bombur, are you looking forward to taking over all my shifts?” Bofur asked.

Bombur shrugged. “Why do you always think I’ll be last?”

“Oh, don’t worry, it’s nothing to be ashamed of. Perhaps I’ll take over some of your additional shifts occasionally. I have your back, brother.”

They fell silent as they entered the Great Hall and made their way to the front, where Lockhart made his announcement. 

 

Nori slipped another of the silver spoons into a fold of his toga. They seemed to be made of solid silver and the engravings on them were like none he had ever seen before. He could probably make a small fortune by selling them. Besides, it wasn’t as if the school would miss them much. After all, they had hundreds of children eating like princelings.

“I’d prefer if you put that back,” Dumbledore said mildly.

“Oh, I was just admiring the craftsmanship of this cutlery. It is very well done indeed, I’ve never seen silver of quite this quality,” Nori replied, quickly changing his motion of tucking the spoon away to one of polishing a speck from the silver.

“Yes, the silver cutlery here at Hogwarts is several centuries old and was forged by goblins. As such, it is also rather valuable. Which is why I’d prefer if you put it back.”

“Of course,” Nori said, putting the spoon back onto the table as if he had never intended to do elsewise. 

“The same goes for that knife, the three forks, the seven table spoons, that serving spoon and the little silver milk jug,” Dumbledore said, smiling at Nori.

Nori returned the smile despite cursing inwardly. How had the old man noticed he had slipped all these things into his toga? Nori had been extra careful to make sure Dumbledore had been looking the other way when he had taken them.

“Oh, you might want this,” Dumbledore said and handed Nori a bright green cloth napkin. “I’m afraid there was still some milk left in the milk jug.”

Nori mentally cursed and took the napkin, suddenly feeling the distinct sensation of liquid dribbling down his front. He had been entirely sure the jug had been empty, and he hadn’t noticed any wetness only moments before.

He dabbed at the milk frantically, but of course, there was no way the stain would go away entirely. And to make things worse, it was positioned in such a way that everybody would think Nori had no control over his bladder.

Finally, Nori gave up. Dumbledore smiled at him again.

“Did you manage to clean it all up?”

“Yes, completely,” Nori replied through clenched teeth.

“Oh, that’s good. Because one of the few things we just can’t find a way to fix with magic is how to dry clothes.”

“Here is your napkin,” Nori said.

“Oh, you can keep that. I wouldn’t want you to think I’m anything but generous towards my guests.”

 

“This is absolutely preposterous,” Dori complained as they were leaving the Great Hall. “Courting letters between children! Who has ever heard of such a thing?!”

“It is distasteful, but I’m sure it is just a game,” Fíli pointed out. “Not even the children of Men earnestly think about courting this young.”

“I certainly hope you are right,” Dori grumbled. “If you feel anything improper is going on, come straight to me, Ori, is that clear?”

“Of course,” Ori replied, seeing Nori roll his eyes and wiping at an unfortunately placed stain on his toga with a neon-green napkin. 

 

“Do you also take valentines for yourself?” The dark haired girl at the front of the group asked and the others giggled.

“For... myself?” Fíli asked, confused.

“Yes. You are the hottest thing in this school since Firenze was a substitute last year. Sure, Lockhart thinks he’s amazing, but we prefer the real thing. So will you take a valentine from me?” The girl held out a lurid pink, heart-shaped card. 

“This is for you,” she said when Fíli hesitated.

Fíli cautiously took the card and opened it. His eyes widened in horror as he read it.

“You want to do what with me?! You aren’t even of age!”

“I almost am. And if we join forces... together, our combined ages ought to be more than enough...” She fluttered her eyelashes at him, as did her friends. 

“No! Really, I’m flattered, but no!” Fíli said and ran. They had said this would be a simple job of delivering messages, not being propositioned by skinny, awful children who would land him in the dungeons!

 

Bofur jumped when there was a loud pop right behind him.

“Master dwarf?”

He turned around and saw the elf from that morning. “Dinky, wasn’t it?”

The elf smiled, its odd mouth stretching nearly to its ears. “That’s right, sir! Sir remembered!”

Bofur smiled back. “Bofur at your service!”

“No, no, Master Bofur mustn’t say that! Dinky shouldn’t even be asking this! It’s not proper for a house-elf!”

“Shouldn’t be asking what?” Bofur asked, perplexed by the sudden outburst.

“Nibby is always sad, so I was thinking she might like a valentine and a new teatowel... But no, Dinky mustn’t be asking! No good house-elf asks for things.” Dinky began banging his head against the wall.

“No, don’t do that!” Bofur exclaimed, pulling Dinky away from the wall. “Why don’t good house-elves ask for things?”

“It’s not proper!” Dinky wailed. “But poor Nibby is always so unhappy and Dinky just wanted to cheer her up a bit. But Valentine’s Day is for proper humans, not for house-elves.”

“I don’t particularly care about proper or improper,” Bofur said. “If it helps make Nibby a bit happier, I’ll bring her the valentine.” He glanced down at his map and grinned. “Look, it even shows Nibby on the map of people I should deliver valentines to. Surely, that must mean it’s alright.”

Dinky clasped his hands in front of his face. “Oh no, please don’t make it official! Dinky does not want any trouble.”

“I’m afraid I don’t know how to make it disappear off the map. That Dumbledore fellow seemed like a decent enough chap, doesn’t he? I don’t think there will be any trouble because of this.”

“Dumbledore is very decent, so kind.” Dinky looked around and lowered his voice to a whisper. “He even offered us clothes and wages and he didn’t even mean to make us leave. Of course Dinky said no; Dinky is a proper house-elf! That is why Dinky doesn’t want to make problems for Dumbledore by sending a valentine officially.”

“I’m afraid I don’t know how to make Nibby disappear from the map,” Bofur said, trying not to be too confused by the things the house-elf had said. “Except by delivering the valentine as quickly as possible. I’m sure nobody will notice.”

Dinky considered this for a moment, then nodded and gave Bofur the little parcel and the card.

Bofur hurried off, following the directions the map gave him towards the kitchens. He tickled the pear as it instructed him to and the door appeared and swung open. 

Inside, a large hall stretched before him, teaming with house-elves. The ones closest to the door rushed over to him.

“Master dwarf, you came like Dinky said you would! Here, try some of the cake for today’s dessert. Nibby is over there. She will be so happy. And then you must stay to try a little more food.”

Bofur tried a bite of the cake, his eyes widening. “This tastes amazing!”

The house-elves beamed.

 

“That is what you want me to tell your beloved?” Óin asked.

“Yes, it is. It might not be a classic love poem, but she loves muggle poetry.”

“Alright, as you wish,” Óin replied, shrugging his shoulders.

 

Dori was still grumbling half an hour later. None of this was appropriate and he wanted no part of it. On the other hand, he did want to help the company. 

He stopped short. There on the stairs, which Dori didn’t trust, sat a crying boy. 

“What’s wrong?” Dori asked, taking a deep breath before joining him on the stairs. “Did the moving stairs hurt you? Irresponsible, this so-called school, I tell you!”

“What? No, I’ve gotten used to the stairs. I just... I miss my parents, and my little sister.”

“I don’t see how that gave you a scraped knee,” Dori said, pointing to the bleeding knee the boy had uncovered so as not to get blood on his trousers or robes. 

The boy chewed his lips. “I... I don’t really have any friends here. And some of the older boys decided to shove me...”

“Do you know their names? I could...”

“No, I don’t want to risk making everything worse...”

“That’s not right you know, nobody should get to do that to you. Does your school at least have a healer you can go to?”

“There’s Madam Pomfrey, but I can’t remember where the infirmary is...”

Dori sighed and looked around. He noticed three students with blue scarves around their necks half a floor below them. 

“Hello, do you know the way to the infirmary?” He called.

The boy next to him groaned quietly. “Please don’t, they are Ravenclaws. They don’t have time for a Slytherin, and certainly not for a dumb one like me...”

“Nonsense,” Dori retorted. “Any decent person would help you out. It’s not a big deal, or it shouldn’t be.”

The students came up to them. “The infirmary? It’s two levels above us, in the eastern part of the castle.”

“Could you perhaps take him there?” Dori asked.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” the boy said quietly. 

“Of course we will,” the boy in the group answered, while one of the girls stretched out her hand to help him up. “What happened to you?”

“I tripped,” the boy said, looking at his feet.

“Hey, aren’t you in my charms class?” The other girl asked and the boy nodded. “What did you think of Professor Flitwick’s teacup juggling act yesterday?” She flailed her hands about in what Dori assumed was an imitation.

Her friends laughed and the boy also smiled. 

Dori smiled to himself as he watched them set off.

Finally he glanced down at his map, he had a job to get started on after all. To his surprise, the map stated he had already delivered one of these so called valentines. 

He looked over to where the four students were now laughing together as they walked down the corridor on the level above him. Could it be...?

Helping people make friends would be a much nicer task than delivering valentines. If there was the chance that would also push his count upwards, that would definitely be what he wanted to do. 

Dori looked back down at his map. A mark had showed up, not a pink or green one, but a blue one. Dori grinned and set off in the direction the map showed him.


	3. Chapter 3

“Hey, you!”

Nori sighed and turned around.

“Weren’t you the dwarf Dumbledore caught earlier trying to steal the silverware?”

Nori tried not to groan. Great. He just had to have been caught in a place where he had no idea how the laws worked and what punishments he had to expect. At least the old fellow earlier hadn’t seemed too eager to chop off his hand or have him put to death. That was usually a good sign. Still, it never hurt to be careful.

“I didn’t steal anything, I was just admiring it. I know a good work of art when I see one.”

“Oh right, of course you were. I never bewitch Trelawney’s crystal balls either, they just go flying out of the windows all on their own.”

These crystal balls sounded interesting, Nori decided, especially if they already had a history of going missing. He would need to figure out where they were. That alone was a good enough reason to keep listening to this child, even though Nori had more profitable ways to make money than take ridiculous courting messages from one child to another. 

“Anyway, I have a valentine you are just the right dwarf to deliver. I’d like you to go into Filch’s office and leave this in his filing cabinet. I know this sounds strange, but he likes these things to be secret and he has that cabinet and maybe even the door to his office locked. If you leave this valentine there, he will be the only person to see this, which will be exactly the way he likes this. It’s from my mum, Mrs. Norris, by the way, not from me. Just in case you were worrying.”

The boy was right. This sounded more than fishy, but not too difficult to do. And if it got them money...  
Nori checked his map. If this showed up on it, then it had to be legitimate and he would be paid for it, if it went wrong, he could always say he had been doing what he had been asked to do and had had no idea the recipient of the valentine hadn’t wanted it. 

“Well, it looks like my map knows where I have to go,” Nori said, taking the rather bulky Valentine.

The boy thanked him with a grin and set off, leaving Nori to fulfil his duty.

Nori made his way towards the place marked on the map, taking his time to look at the various things in the corridor to see if they were of any worth. They were mostly suits of armour too bulky to move and moving paintings of which Nori couldn’t even begin to assess their worth. Besides, their inhabitants (however that worked) were much too rowdy. He would never get them out of the castle unnoticed. 

The office was locked when Nori got there. He cast a brief look onto the map to confirm the office was still marked as a target and then took out his lock picks. Nori had feared the door might be magically locked, but it was remarkably easy to pick. Cautiously, he cracked it open and peaked inside. 

It was empty. Only a large cat glared at him and rushed outside. For a moment, Nori worried it was not allowed outside, but there was a cat flap in the door anyway, so it would not be a problem. 

The office looked rather less interesting than Nori had imagined it. The furniture and walls were in drab greys and browns and the walls were covered by long filing cabinets. Nori tried their doors and as expected, they were locked. Nori set to work picking them, laying the oddly smelling Valentine beside him. Again, the door was rather easy to pick.

Nori had just placed the Valentine inside when he heard a voice outside.

“What is it, my pretty? Is someone breaking the rules...” The voice trailed off and Nori guessed the man outside had seen that the door had been broken open. He quickly ducked under the desk.

The door slowly creaked open and Nori had just enough time to see an old man and a cat enter, the cat staring straight at him, before there was a loud explosion from the filing cabinet and the room filled with smoke and the smell of manure.

Nori saw his one chance to escape. He jumped out from behind the desk and ducked past the coughing old man and his cat, running as fast as he could in the flopping sandals Lockhart had supplied.

“Get him, Mrs. Norris!” The old man yelled and Nori heard the pattering of cat paws on the floor behind him, followed by the footsteps of the old man. Nori kicked off the sandals so he could run faster and rushed around one corner after the other. Finally, he ducked into the space behind one of the suits of armour he had noticed earlier. He cowered there, trying not to breathe too loudly as the cat and the man rushed past. 

“Where is that pink-togaed miscreant, my sweet? Find him and we’ll hang him by his thumbs.”

The cat sniffed, but it seemed as though their shared stench of manure prevented it from finding him. They passed by Nori without noticing him.

Nori only allowed himself a sigh of relief a while after they had turned around the next corner and it was much longer than that before he finally unfolded himself from his hiding place. He sighed. It looked like he would have to continue this day not just stained with milk in his crotch area that refused to dry, but also barefoot and reeking of manure. Just perfect.

 

Dwalin scowled. He had just been told by the fifth student his map marked as wanting to send a valentine that they didn’t want to send one after all. And the boy hadn’t even been able to clearly tell him that. Instead, he had backed away from Dwalin and squeaked and stuttered in a way that had Dwalin questioning the health of these children. Perhaps some kind of vicious cold was destroying both their voices and their wits. Dwalin wondered if he should warn the others so that they could avoid catching whatever it was.

That was when a little girl with even redder hair than Glóin marched up to Dwalin.

“You deliver musical valentines, don’t you?”

Dwalin repressed a sigh. The musical valentines were what he had been least looking forward to. Singing to one’s beloved was a time-proved tradition, provided the person courting sang them _theirself_. But at least Dwalin would finally have a valentine to deliver. He had been worried that if things continued this way, they wouldn’t get enough bonus money, which would be even worse than having to take over additional watches, not that Dwalin was particularly keen on that either. 

“Aye, I do that, lass. What do you want me to sing?”

She handed him a piece of paper with lyrics on it. “I haven’t had the time to come up with a melody yet.”

Dwalin skimmed over the lyrics and furrowed his brow.

“Is that a problem?” The girl asked. “I can come up with something and get back to you later...”

Dwalin shook his head. “No, no, that’s not the problem. It’s just... Are you sure you want me to say _that_ to him?”

“Why? Is there something wrong with it?” The little girl stubbornly stuck out her jaw.

“He must really like you a lot,” Dwalin said, shaking his head as he walked off. Who would listen to such drivel voluntarily?

 

“To whom do you want to send a valentine, Laura Leafway?” Bombur asked the girl with light-brown hair.

The girl looked at him, startled. Bombur supposed he would be startled as well if someone he didn’t know addressed him by his name. “Me? I don’t have a valentine to send.”

“Yes, you do. You were looking at me as if you wanted to send one but didn’t dare to. And you showed up on my map as someone who wants a valentine delivered.” 

The girl’s eyes flickered over to a girl with a green tie and a dark pony-tail for a split second, but that was enough for Bombur to notice.  
“Ah. So she’s the one, isn’t she?” He glanced at the name connected to her on the map. “Yadira Vargas?”

The girl’s eyes widened. “I don’t want to send her a valentine! That’s just about the worst idea there is.”

“Oh, so you are afraid you’ll be rejected? You know, I was too, when I first spoke to my Niris and I nearly tripped over my own tongue. But it was the best thing I ever did. You know, we’re married now, and our fourteenth child is on the way.”

The girl laughed bitterly. “I doubt Yadira reciprocates my feelings. And even if she did, marriage and children together aren’t really options, you know. So please don’t tell her anything, even if you’re some strange parody of Cupid today.”

Bombur nodded solemnly. “If you are sure.”

The girl nodded and Bombur waited until the tip of her red and gold scarf disappeared around the corner. Then, he followed as the girl with the green tie left through the other exit, watching as she talked with her friends.

After several minutes, the friends bade her farewell and disappeared into a classroom while the girl with the pony-tail continued on alone.

Bombur silently cheered at this bit of luck. “Yadira? Yadira Vargas?”

She spun around and groaned when she saw him. “Oh no. Please don’t tell me you have one of your imbecile messages for me. I don’t have time for this crap.” 

Bombur winced slightly at her tone. “No, but I was wondering if there is perhaps someone you want to send a valentine to.”

Yadira scoffed. “I told you, I have no time for this. It is a game romantic fools play, not intelligent people who have things to achieve in life. Now leave me alone or I’ll hex you all the way to hell!”

Bombur had no idea where this hell was supposed to be, but he got the feeling going there would be a bad idea. He slowly backed away from the angry girl.

“Alright. Have a nice day anyway.”

He turned around and glanced at his map to see who else in the area might want a valentine sent. He blinked and looked again. He turned back towards the girl.  
“Excuse me? Yadira? My map shows me I’m supposed to deliver a valentine from you to a certain Laura Leafway...”

“You will stop spreading slander about me immediately or I will not hesitate to throw you from the astronomy tower!”

Bombur did his best not to back away. “I’m not trying to spread any rumours about. That’s just what my maps shows. Look....”

“Let me see that,” Yadira demanded and snatched the map from his hands.

“It hasn’t done this before, marking someone even though nobody told me to bring them a message. The green mark indicates someone I am supposed to deliver a message to and the little bubble next to them tells me who the message is supposed to be from...”

“Yes, yes, I can see that. But where...” she clearly found the mark as she stared at the map in disbelief for a moment. “I never told you to... there clearly has to be something wrong with the map...”

She pulled out her wand. “Reparo!”

Nothing happened. “This can’t be... I don’t...” She hastily looked around the corridor as though she were afraid of being followed. “She... I only glanced at her once or twice when... Look, I don’t even know who she is... I don’t... We only spoke because of that assignment... I... I don’t... And why is there a mark saying you are to deliver a valentine to me from....”

“Look, I don’t know exactly how this map works. All I know is that since I got it this morning, it has reliably led me to people who want valentines delivered and it led me to Laura. She said she didn’t want anything delivered and was about as cagey about it as you are, but she looked directly at you and this popped up. The same happened when I talked to you. I’m not sure exactly what is going on, but I do know I have other valentines to deliver instead of playing whatever game this is. Either you give me a message to deliver or you deal with this yourself. If you want my advice, just – pardon my language here – fucking talk to her. I wish you a good day!” 

And with that, Bombur hurried off, relieved to leave that mess behind.

 

“Hey you! Do you only deliver messages? Or can you do other things as well?”

Kíli turned towards the two red-heads warily. He had met Fíli just a few minutes ago and what he had told him had been enough to make the bravest dwarf cautious.

“What other things would you be talking about?”

“I don’t know. Do you play quidditch?”

The other boy saw Kíli’s puzzled expression. “It’s a ball game you play while riding a broom.”

Kíli choked on his own spit. Nothing Fíli had mentioned had been quite this audacious. “I beg your pardon? I do nothing of the sort, and I’d thank you to keep your perverted games to yourself! That is the most disgusting euphemism I’ve ever heard!”

One of the red-heads looked at him in confusion while the other burst into laughter.

“Ball game while riding a broom! George, he thinks...” 

The boy who had to be George burst into laughter as well. “You thought...? Sweet Merlin, no! I don’t swing that way, sorry mate! I literally meant balls,” he gestured a size with his hands that would have any dwarf rushing to Oín for treatment, “and, you know, brooms like you use them for flying.”

“Oh,” Kíli said, joining their laughter as he realised his mistake. “I’m sorry; my mind usually isn’t that deep down the caves. And for that matter, how could you use a broom for flying? I’ve only used one for sweeping and usually only when my mother makes me.”

“Oh, sorry,” George said. “It makes sense dwarves wouldn’t travel by broom. We’ll have to show you. But what Fred here was really trying to ask is if you do anything more fun than delivering silly messages?”

Fred nodded. “Do you, for instance, know how to shoot that silly frilly bow you are carrying around? Or have any interesting hobbies or skills?”

Kíli nodded. “I’m one of the best archers in my town. Of course I can shoot an arrow, even though this bow and these arrows aren’t of good quality.”

“Wow, that’s cool! Can you teach us?”

“We’ll show you a bit of quidditch in return!”

Kíli nodded. “That sounds like fun, but we should probably go outside for it.” He sobered suddenly. “Oh wait. I need to keep on delivering messages or I won’t get the additional money we need.”

The twins exchanged glances. “We could just send you back and forth and that would count, wouldn’t it?”

Kíli nodded. “I think so.”

“Well then, let’s go!” They said, heading towards the doors.

“Hey, Angelina! Katie! Want to come along? We convinced one of the dwarves to teach us some archery....” An elbow in the rib from his brother stopped Fred. 

“Wait, shouldn’t we send... um, what’s your name, by the way?”

“Kíli.”

“...send Kíli here to ask them? That way he gets another mark on his list for a delivered valentine.”

“Would you?” Fred asked Kíli and Kíli nodded.

He headed over to the girls and they quickly agreed. Quite a few other students also became interested when they heard what they had planned.

“Just come along,” George suggested. “The more, the merrier!”


	4. Chapter 4

“How are you faring?” Dwalin asked. 

Thorin scowled. “This thing is absolutely useless.” He held up the map that Dumbledore had given him. “The only thing I’ve been able to see on it is Gandalf and Dumbledore in Dumbledore’s office, sitting around and probably drinking tea.”

Dwalin tried not to laugh. “Lockhart did say the map shows you who you want to find. And Gandalf is how we will get home again... But perhaps yours is broken. Mine mostly works fine, except that half the people who are shown as wanting to send a valentine back away from me stuttering things like ‘never mind, I didn’t want to bother you.’ It’s a bit strange, really.”

Thorin sighed. “Well, I suppose we ought to continue working. Maybe somebody will want me to deliver a valentine after all. I’ve just started asking around who wants to send a valentine because we need as much of that additional money as we can get, but everyone just shakes their head and leaves as quickly as possible. It’s frustrating. I hope the others are more successful.”

Dwalin nodded. “I certainly hope so.”

 

“Does anyone wish to send a valentine?” Balin asked loudly as he walked down the corridor. “Do you perhaps wish to send a valentine?”

He knew that anyone wanting to send a valentine would show up on his map, but his experience told him that people often bought wares they otherwise wouldn’t have if you approached them more directly. And why would that be any different in this world?

“Do you perhaps have a lass you’d like to send a valentine to?” He asked a boy with a yellow scarf.

The boy snorted. “No, that’s not really my thing, sorry.”

“A lad perhaps?”

“No. It’s not my thing in general.”

“Oh, craft-wed then? I’m sorry to have bothered you,” Balin replied and prepared to move on.

“Craft-wed? What’s that?”

“Amongst my people, some prefer not to take a spouse but dedicate themselves entirely to their craft instead.”

“Like monks? Is there a religious background for this? Because I’m not really one for religion.”

“No, though they are respected for devoting their lives to their crafts, whether they take no spouse for love of their crafts or invest their energy into their crafts because they desire no spouse.”

“Are many of your people craft-wed then, or only a few?” The boy asked.

“Oh, almost a third of our people are craft-wed. So it is by no means rare.”

The boy chewed on his lip. “I don’t really have a craft. I’m quite good at Care of magical Creatures, but I don’t know if I want to make a career of it... I might prefer a safe job in the Ministry of Magic...”

Balin smiled. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out, lad. You’re still young, you have plenty of time.”

“I hope so. I like the idea and I’m definitely not getting a girlfriend or a boyfriend, no matter whether the others think I’m odd or not.”

“There’s nothing odd about it, lad,” Balin said, patting him on the shoulder.

The boy beamed at him. “Thank you. You have no idea what this means to me.”

When they had parted ways, Balin glanced at his map. It showed one delivered valentine more than the last time he had checked. He grinned. Dori had told him of something similar.

 

“Miss Elwin?” Óin asked.

“Yes?” The young woman turned around.

“I have a poem for you, something called a sonnet to be exact.” Óin took a deep breath.  
“When I do court the cock that tells of grime,  
And see the brave day sunk in hideous fright;  
When I behold the violent vast pine,  
And sables carve, all shiver from each bite;   
For lofty fees I see barrels of leaves,  
With earnest heat dip cantaloupe in curd  
And summer's spleen all murdered up by thieves  
Born to mishear with white and bristly beard,  
Then the fly’s beauty do I freshly bake  
Fat cows among the wastes of crime must go,  
Since sweets and beauties do themselves forge cake  
And die as fast as they see others glow;  
And nothing gains lime’s swift can-baked incense   
Save weed, to crave him when he makes bees tense.”

People were staring by the time Óin finished and there was a round of applause.

The young woman wiped tears of mirth from her eyes. “Was that supposed to be Shakespeare?”

Óin nodded. “Yes, that was the name he said. I hope I didn’t make too many mistakes, my hearing isn’t always the best.”

“It was wonderful, thank you!”

“Could you perhaps recite one for my boyfriend too?” Another girl asked.

“Of course,” Óin replied and she recited a poem she wanted to send.

 

 

Fíli hated his toga. He hated his sandals, the silly bow and the colour of his outfit too, but most of all, he hated his toga. 

It always felt to loose, slipping off one shoulder or the other and flapping around his legs when he tried to run from another bunch of girls. He had already readjusted and refastened the pin about half a dozen times and it was still awful. Fíli cursed his decision to come here for about the hundredth time. Surely, they would have found a different way to raise the necessary money.

“Look, there’s the hot one!”

From the way they talked about him, it sounded like he was some kind of warm meal, but by now, he had realised that their interest in him was not because they wanted to eat him.   
Fíli sighed and quickened his pace. Perhaps they would leave him alone this time.

He had no such luck.

“Hey, hottie! I heard you only liked girls that are of age. Well, you are in luck, I came of age last week.”

Fíli ran. He did not want to deal with this. He hadn’t wanted to deal with anything the day had thrown at him so far.

Fíli sprinted along the corridor, his toga flapping around his legs. He ran around the corner and into the Entrance Hall. The students standing there in groups chatting to each other turned and stared at him. 

“What is he doing?” He heard someone ask.

“Look, I think...”

“His toga...”

Too late, Fíli realised the toga had stopped flapping around his legs. The pin had stopped thumping against his chest unpleasantly. In fact, Fíli was no longer covered in lurid pink. He was not covered in anything.

He froze, realising he was stark naked in a room full of laughing, staring students. His mind finally catching up, he covered himself up with his hands as well as he could and limped back to where his toga lay flopped on the ground. He wrapped it around himself as well as he could in his hurry and ran away as the students cheered him on. 

As soon as he was sure he had lost all of them, he yanked open a door. Luckily, there wasn’t a classroom behind it, just a small room filled with brooms and other cleaning materials. Perfect.

Fíli slipped inside, his heart pounding and his face burning with shame. He refastened the accursed toga as well as he could and sat down on an overturned bucket. There was no way he was going out there again. He would find another way to contribute to the company’s funds.

 

It didn’t take long for Dwalin to find the boy on his map. “Harry Potter! Musical valentine for you!”

The boy looked straight at him and then ducked around the corner as quickly as he could.

Dwalin hurried after him. He would not be cheated out of his additional salary because he had been unable to deliver this valentine. Unfortunately, the boy had disappeared by the time Dwalin rounded the corner. The map was of no help either, since the boy had apparently dropped out of existence entirely. Dwalin cursed. Thorin had been right when he said there was something wrong with the maps. Still, he wouldn’t waste time pondering this problem. There were other valentines to deliver.

 

Ori was hopelessly lost. The map in his hand was of little use since he did not know where he was. The way the different floors were connected baffled him anyway. He had nearly fallen off one of the moving staircases earlier and several of the portraits had insulted him. Perhaps one of the students would be able to help him.

“Excuse me, Miss. I have a question...”

The girl turned around, her bushy hair flying. She groaned when she saw Ori.  
“Look, this whole thing with the valentines is a ridiculous idea and is really disrupting classes. Exams are only four months away and we really need to concentrate on studying. So if you have any ridiculous valentine for me, please just leave me alone. I don’t want it.”

“I am really sorry to disturb you, but I seem to have lost my way. I can ask someone else though, never mind.”

“Oh no, I don’t mind helping you, it’s just that...”

“You think the Valentines are ridiculous and disruptive. It’s alright, it’s not like I want to be doing this,” Ori replied.

“Wait, you are being forced to do this?! That is slave labour! We must go to Dumbledore at once, I will not stand for this!” The girl was pulling him away by his elbow, much to Ori’s surprise.

“No, it’s alright really. There’s no need for that...”

“No need for that?! If you are being forced to work and aren’t receiving any payment, then that is slavery and against the law of both muggles and wizards.”

“We are getting paid. I just don’t particularly like doing this, but we have to because we need the money for our quest.”

“Oh. Are you getting fair wages?”

Ori told him how much money they would be getting and the girl nodded.

“Alright, from what I remember from that book on magical economy, those are fair wages. What kind of quest is that you are talking about? Oh wait, sorry, you need to be going somewhere to deliver your valentine and earn your bonus. Where do you need to go? I’ll try to help you get there. I’m Hermione Granger, by the way.”

“Ori, at your service.” Ori bowed and then scratched behind his ear. “I actually don’t have any Valentine to deliver right now, I’ve just completely lost my orientation. So if you aren’t too busy studying at the moment, I could tell you about the quest. We are going to travel to Erebor to see if the dragon that destroyed our kingdom still lives and if possible, reclaim our old home.”

He told her all about the quest and the difficulties they were encountering so far. When she asked about Erebor and the dwarves’ history, he replied readily.

“If you were staying here longer, I could send an owl to my friend’s brother so he could give you some advice. He works with dragons and when a good friend of mine hatched a dragon last year, he came to pick the dragon up. I reckon he would have a few ways you could deal with that dragon, possibly even without the dragon coming to harm. But we could go to the library, they have some good books on dragons!”

“Oh, I’d like that!” Ori said. “I always like working in our library and any advice on how to deal with dragons would be wonderful.”

“Too bad Harry isn’t here,” Hermione said. “He helped out with the dragon most and could probably tell you a tale or two. I think he is hiding from one of your companions who is trying to deliver a Valentine to him. He said something about only narrowly escaping a burly, bald dwarf earlier.”

Ori burst into laughter. “That would be Dwalin. Oh, he’ll be just thrilled that your friend isn’t letting him do his job.”

Hermione laughed too, starting to lead the way to the library. “I wouldn’t want to trade with either of them, to be honest.”


	5. Chapter 5

Bombur smiled at Bifur, who was carrying a pink envelope. “How are you doing? Have you had any difficulties?”

Bifur shook his head. /No, it’s going unexpectedly well. Either the children are looking for a cryptic valentine or they just hand me cards to deliver. Some of them have been having fun trying to figure out Iglishmêk or even Khuzdul. You don’t think it will be a problem? Gandalf did say this is an entirely different world./

“Don’t worry, I’m sure it will be fine,” Bombur said.

/That’s good, that was the only thing I was a bit worried about. I don’t think I’ll be the one who has to take over extra turns for keeping watch. I spoke to Dwalin earlier and he said he had difficulties finding students who want messages delivered and some of the ones he is supposed to give valentines to are proving really hard to pin down, especially this one boy./

“That’s a relief,” Bombur said. “I’m not doing too badly delivering messages, but that doesn’t have to mean I’m not in last place if the others are doing well too. But I don’t think I’ll have to take over the additional turns like Bofur said. By the way, have you seen him anywhere?”

Bifur shook his head. /Not since this morning. You don’t think he ran into trouble?/

“I doubt it. This is a school, they wouldn’t have anything here that could harm the students. He is probably just running so fast to deliver messages that nobody can see him.”

Bifur and Bombur burst into laughter and then continued on their way. After all, it wouldn’t do to feel too safe that they had already delivered enough valentines. Besides, delivering the valentines was turning out to be rather less horrible than they had anticipated at first.

 

“And that is how we freed him from the collapsed mine,” Bofur concluded.

“That is wonderful!” Dinky said, applauding. “Would Master Bofur perhaps like some more of the chocolate cake, or maybe some more butterbeer?”

Bofur regretfully shook his head. “I really should go back to delivering valentines. I need to deliver more than the other dwarves do, or at least, I need to make sure I’m not the one who has delivered the least valentines.”

“Moffy was outside a few minutes ago,” a house-elf Bofur hadn’t noticed before said. “Moffy saw the young dark-haired dwarf teach some of the students how to use bow and arrow. Master Bofur doesn’t need to worry.”

“Alright, if the others aren’t delivering many valentines either, I’ll have just a bit more cake. I don’t think my brother and cousin will be very successful either.”

Bofur leaned back and began eating another piece of cake while he told a story about the time Bombur had been supposed to bring a cart of cheese wheels to the next village. The house-elves listened happily, using every chance to feed him more food.

 

Óin shuddered. That poem truly was not to his taste. It definitely needed improving. It was a good thing his hearing was rather selective and anything he didn’t want to hear could be remodelled.

By the time he reached the girl’s boyfriend, he had the perfect version.

“Your dove is a fist that I pleasure more with every passing sleigh   
As slime blows by I find myself uncovering more and more measles, so shove you.  
This mooring line’s bay,  
I'm thinking about how wonderful it is to have your glove in my wife.” 

“Pardon, what?” The boy asked, staring at him.

Óin repressed a grin and repeated the poem.

The boy stared at him some more, then burst into laughter. “Pauline sent you with this, didn’t she?”

Óin glanced at his map and nodded. “She did. I hope I didn’t butcher it too badly; I’m slightly hard of hearing. I did warn her beforehand.”

“Oh no, knowing Pauline, I think you recited it just the way she wanted you to. Thank you!”

 

Glóin hurried along the hallway, glad that there were no students around at the moment. Oh why had he drunken this much of the tea his wife Nardís had made this morning? His bladder had been complaining for quite a while now and while he normally would have just walked over to the nearest bush, he was in a bit of a pickle now.

He was just about to give in and just find a quiet corner (really, it wasn’t much of a choice anymore) when he spotted a familiar sign. Sure, the smith’s apron was blown slightly out of proportion and he couldn’t remember any of the children wearing a smith’s apron, but the sign was clear enough, so it wouldn’t hurt to check if this was really the bathroom Glóin so desperately needed.

He opened the door and to his relief, saw a number of washing basins and even better, a line of stalls with basins of a different kind.

“This is the girls’ bathroom, you know?” A shrill voice said as Glóin rushed in, already unbuttoning his trousers.

“I’m sorry, but I’m past caring right now,” Glóin snapped, rushing into the nearest stall and bolting the door shut behind him.

“Boys in the girls’ bathroom! Help! Boys in the girls’ bathroom!”

The satisfaction of finally being able to relieve himself was immediately tainted with the worry of just how much trouble he would be in if this girl kept screaming like this.  
“Would you just calm down? I’m not harming you in any way, I merely couldn’t find any other bathroom. So pipe down, lass.”

“But you are... oh hello! What a fine specimen! A bit short but nice and chunky!”

Glóin nearly jumped backwards and created a mess when a silvery opaque girl with large glasses came through the wall and looked down at him.

“How... what... Get out of here! How did you get in here?!”

“I’m Myrtle, pleased to meet you!” She shook his free hand while Glóin was still too stunned to react. “And you are?”

“Glóin, at your service!” Glóin said automatically, bowing as well as he could in his current situation.

“Ooh, a real gentleman!” She did a few summersaults close to the ceiling. “I haven’t had that often. And how charming of you to visit me on Valentine’s Day! I’ve always wanted to meet someone like that!”

“I’m not here because of you,” Glóin stuttered, finally finishing his business. 

“You’re not? Nobody ever likes me!” Myrtle wailed and dove down the toilet, nearly splashing Glóin in the process.

“I’m married! I have a son who is about your age, for Mahal’s sake!”

“You do?” Myrtle popped back out again. “What does he look like? Are his manners as nice as yours? Could you maybe bring him here and introduce me to him?”

“I...” Glóin trailed off. His Gimli was still too young to be thinking about courtship and he certainly didn’t want him anywhere near this inappropriate girl. The entire situation was making Glóin very uncomfortable. “Alright, I’ll tell him about you. I’ll... I’ll be off then, so I can be home as soon as possible, alright?”

“Oh. I was hoping you could stay a bit longer. It is so very nice to have company, especially the company of someone like you... But alright, just be sure to come back as soon as possible!”

“I will,” Glóin agreed. It wasn’t an outright lie. He would be telling his family about all the horrible experiences he had had today and he would be back as soon as possible, which, given the circumstances, would be never. 

He gave Myrtle a quick smile and nod, then hurried out of the bathroom. Once the door had closed behind him, he broke into a run. He would not drink anything else that day, he vowed, not until he was home. And if he happened to need a bathroom again anyway, well, he would rather wet himself than find out if she also haunted the school’s other bathrooms.

 

Dwalin scanned the crowd, then looked back at one particular student. Black hair that stood up in a mess, red and gold scarf. He glanced at his map. Sure enough, there it was: a green dot labelled with the name Harry Potter. Dwalin set into motion.

“Harry Potter! I have a musical valentine for you!”

The boy looked at him like a rabbit stares at a warg, then ran. This time, Dwalin wasn’t taken by surprise. He sprinted after the boy, rounding the corner only seconds after him. He only just caught a glimpse of him throwing some kind of cloth over his head and then the boy disappeared. Dwalin came to an abrupt stand and stared. There were no other corners the boy could have rounded, nor were there any doors. Still, the boy was gone.

Dwalin checked his map. Harry Potter was nowhere to be seen on it. He cursed. There was definitely something strange going on. Small wonder in a place that had ghosts.


	6. Chapter 6

The library was packed with students. Hermione wrinkled her forehead. “This is strange. There are usually never this many students here.”

“Most of them seem to be headed over there,” Ori pointed out. 

“That’s the muggle section, particularly the corner with muggle poetry. Nobody _ever_ goes there,” Hermione said, clearly confused. 

“What do you think he’ll turn this one into?” One of the students asked another. “Or should we try this one?”

“Is that him?” asked a student with a blue tie, gesturing towards Ori.

“No, he is far too young. You want to ask the old one with the braid that looks like the stinger of a blast-ended skrewt.”

“That sounds like Óin,” Ori whispered to Hermione. “I wonder what they want with him. He is more than half deaf, so I doubt he’s terribly good at listening to the messages they want delivered. Unless, of course, they give them to him in writing.”

Hermione shrugged. “The section on magical creatures is over there. It doesn’t look like there are too many students there you will bother us. Let’s go.”

 

Bombur hurried along the corridor. He had gotten a bit lost trying to find one of the recipients of a valentine and wanted to get it done as soon as possible so he could deliver the next one. He was getting the hang of this and felt he was contributing to the funds of the company nicely. 

He turned a corner and stared. There, intertwined in an alcove, were the two girls from earlier that day. There was no mistake that they had finally gathered their courage and talked to each other and had since started to use their mouths for other activities. Yadira looked up and pulled away from the deep kiss she was sharing with Laura.

“Don’t you have anything else to do?” She grumbled without any real anger behind it. “I told you I’d hex you if you didn’t start minding your own business.”

“Yadira, should you really...” Laura asked quietly.

“Oh, I think he deserves this little hex,” Yadira said and flicked her wand at Bombur, who had been backing off. 

To his surprise, a swarm of butterflies fluttered out. He rushed away to leave them alone, a trail of pink, green and silver as well as red and gold butterflies following him. Somehow, he had imagined a hex to be worse than a bunch of friendly insects fluttering about his head.

 

“Excuse me?”

Thorin turned around. He had given up on trying to find anyone who wanted him to deliver one of those ridiculous Valentines. From what he had heard from the others, he could almost be glad that the map didn’t work for him and everybody he asked backed away from him. Instead he had taken to sulking around, occasionally strumming the harp and glaring at anyone who was drawn to the music. The harp really was quite a quality instrument and just the right size to carry around as well.

“Yes?” Thorin turned around to see a gaggle of giggling girls, all trying to push each other to the front to talk to him.

“We heard that you are the king of the dwarves. Is that true?”

Thorin eyed them suspiciously, trying to figure out where this was going. They did not seem likely assassins but you often had to be suspicious of the unlikely ones as well. At any rate, this topic was not something that concerned a bunch of school girls.

“Why do you ask?”

“So you are!”

“No, of course he isn’t!” A second girl interrupted. “Why would a king do a job like this? Besides, Professor Binns told us the dwarves of Great Britain have not had a king since the Great Goblin Strike in 1657. You’d know that if you ever paid attention in History of Magic!”

“I’ve told you before, Binns bores me to bits! And Priscilla Roberts insisted that the archery dwarf said the one with the boots is the king!”

“It’s your own fault if you listen to Priscilla Roberts, you know what she said about Professor Sprout. Not to mention the rumours she spread about Professor McGonagall and Hagrid having an illicit love affair....”

“They are! You just don’t want to admit that you are wrong in this as well. Why would the dwarf say that if he’s not the king? If he isn’t the king, he just would have said so outright!”

“Or maybe he’s just wondering why you would ask such a ridiculous question!”

Thorin cleared his throat. “Did you want something or can I spend my time doing something more useful than listening to your arguing?”

“Oh Merlin! Just listen to how majestic his voice is! And he is so commanding. He is totally a king! If I hadn’t met the love of my life already, I’d totally fall in love with him.”

“Lots of dwarves have deep voices and he simply doesn’t want you to waste his time with something so unimportant.”

“This isn’t unimportant! I want the love of my life to marry me and surely, he can’t say no if I get a real king to ask him for me.”

“He’s leaving!” One of the other girls pointed out, much to Thorin’s displeasure. He had hoped he would be able to sneak away while the girls were arguing with each other. Those ‘hormones’ Lockhart had mentioned really were terrible things.

“No! Please don’t leave, your majesty the dwarf... um... your royal highness...”   
She turned to her friends in an audible whisper “Is it insulting to call a dwarf ‘your highness’? Should it be ‘your lowness’ instead or is that even worse? How do you address a king at all? Oh no, he’s going to hate me!”

“You don’t address him at all,” the other girl sniped. “Or if you do, just talk to him like you would with anyone else. He isn’t a king.”

“Oh shut up! I’m sorry, your lowly majestic highness, she doesn’t mean it. Could you please take this valentine to Professor Gilderoy Lockhart and ask him if he will marry me? I’d be ever so thankful, oh king of dwarves!”

Thorin sighed as she handed him a card that was exactly the same shade of lurid pink as his toga. He finally had his first Valentine to deliver and it was so much worse than he had imagined.

 

“Harry Potter! I have a valentine for you!”

The boy quickened his step. Dwalin followed suit. If the boy wanted to do this the hard way, that was fine with him.

“Hey you! Harry Potter! Stop immediately! I have a valentine to deliver to you! I have no time for these games!” Dwalin shouted in his best guard voice. People were stopping to look.

The boy started running and Dwalin sprinted after him, tackling him to the floor. The boy’s belongings spilled from his bag to the floor, but Dwalin was far too annoyed to feel sorry for him.

“Now listen here. You will stop being a brat and let me do my job. I will sing you your musical valentine and you will shut up and stay put until I’m done. Is that clear?”

The boy nodded, his face rivalling the colour of his scarf. The other students stood around, watching to see what would happen.

“Good.”

Dwalin took a deep breath and began singing the drivel about eyes like pickled toads like he had been asked to. As the boy clearly longed to be swallowed up by the ground, Dwalin was vaguely thankful that he had been trained for battle from a young age. It certainly had its advantages to be able to do the most unpleasant tasks without truly having to think about them.


	7. Chapter 7

“Professor Lockhart, I have a valentine for you,” Thorin said, holding out the envelope.

“Oh, thank you! Isn’t that wonderful? That brings me up to 134 valentines, including four marriage proposals!” He opened the envelope and beamed. “Make that five marriage proposals!”

He looked at Thorin and halted. “Why are you pulling that face? Today is a good day. Why aren’t you putting more enthusiasm into this? Of course I can understand that you are a bit disappointed that you will never get as many valentines or become five-time winner of the Witch Weekly’s Most Charming Smile Award like me. But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t smile at all. Even that fat fellow smiles every time he delivers another valentine to me. He is really earning quite a bit of bonus salary, I might have to cap the amount you can earn on it.”

Thorin glared at him. “You will do no such thing. It is in the contract that we get a bonus for every valentine we deliver.”

Lockhart laughed nervously. “Yes, of course, it was only a joke. No need to get upset, you’ll get your money. How many valentines have you delivered then?”

Perhaps Lockhart had intended his question to be reconciliatory, but his attempt failed.

“You think you have the right to humiliate us and change the terms of the contract however you please, for your own amusement! You think courtship is a game while nobody with any honour in their body would even entertain the thought of letting dozens or even hundreds of women pin false hopes to them, even going so far as marriage proposals. Some of them are young girls, for Mahal’s sake! You should concentrate on teaching your students, not promoting excessive false courting.” Thorin sniffed. “And while you’re at it, you might want to clean your office. It reeks of manure.”

“I don’t know where that smell is coming from!” Lockhart whispered and sprayed some perfume into the air. “It didn’t smell like this earlier!”

“Be that as it may, this has gone on long enough. We would like our money now. We are leaving.”

“All of you? But there’s only you here, you can’t just speak for all of your colleagues!”

“Oh, but he can,” Nori said, emerging from the door at the back of the classroom. “Each and every one of us stands behind what he says.”

Lockhart jumped. “Where did you come from?! What were you doing in my private quarters?”

“Drying my clothes,” Nori replied and Thorin saw him shift in such a way that the lumps under his toga weren’t quite as obvious. “I got some milk on my toga at breakfast and it has been surprisingly slow to dry. I hope you don’t mind the little fire I made in your fireplace.”

“What did you burn? I don’t have any firewood in there!”

“You had a handy stack of these lying around,” Nori said, waving around an entirely too accurate painting that showed a moving Lockhart. “Surely, you don’t really need more than one of these, do you?” 

“My autograph cards!” Lockhart wailed. “But I need....”

“Never mind that,” Thorin snapped. “We want our payment. Right now.”

“But I need to check all the different maps I gave you to see how much bonus...”

“Have you ever heard people talking about how hard-working and honest dwarves are?” Nori asked, taking a step closer to Lockhart and flashing him his widest smile.

“I... um... yes, but...”

“Good. So surely you won’t doubt that we have delivered more valentines than you ever thought possible, do you?” 

Lockhart shook his head, his eyes wide. Thorin decided that it was perfectly fine if Nori took over, he seemed to know what he was doing.

“How much do you have here?” Nori asked.

Lockhart pulled a key out of his pocket and fit it into a lock on his desk. He pulled out a bag. Nori cast a look inside.

“Is that all?” 

Nori saw his eyes flick to the two other bags lying in the desk. “We’ll take those too.”

“But there’s no way you could have delivered that many...”

Nori smiled at him. “I understand that you probably never worked with dwarves before, so I forgive you for your little misstep. Because here’s the thing about dwarves: we are very proud of our work and can get rather prickly if somebody insults it.”

Lockhart glanced at Thorin and Thorin gave him the stoniest look he could manage. It wasn’t very difficult, all things considered.

“Um, sure, go ahead. And thank you for all your hard work,” Lockhart stammered.

“I’ll be taking this too,” Thorin said, gesturing at his harp. “It does make a passable instrument.”

Lockhart nodded dumbly.

“It was a pleasure doing business with you,” Thorin said, taking the bags of money. “We’ll be on our way...”

Thorin caught Nori’s urgently flitting hands just in time. /Can’t leave him like this. He will only cause more trouble for us./

/We’ll be away in no time at all. There’s no need to do anything drastic./ Thorin signed back. /What were you thinking of any.../

/Get that away from him!/

Thorin looked back at Lockhart just in time to see him reaching for his wand. Thorin’s fighter’s instincts kicked in and before Lockhart even knew what was happening, his wand flew to the other side of the room.

“You don’t want to do that,” Nori said. “Not with Thorin here. Now if you’d be so kind as to sit down on that chair there? Slowly, please.”

Lockhart complied, eyes wide in terror. “What are you going to do with me?”

“Oh, nothing you haven’t done voluntarily before, judging by the contents of your wardrobe.” Nori pulled some furry handcuffs and a gag from one of the folds of his toga. He sent Thorin a questioning glance and Thorin nodded. “So very nice of you to have these lying around.”

The cuffs clicked into place.

“How did... Those aren’t mine, they... I’m just keeping them for a friend! Honestly...”

“Shush. You are probably the last person who should be using that word,” Nori said and fit the gag over Lockhart’s mouth.

There were muffled protests, but Nori seemed satisfied.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll have one admirer or the other who will soon come looking for you. If not, you’ll only have to wait until Monday. I’m sure your students will notice if their teacher doesn’t return from the weekend.”

The sounds of protest became slightly louder and Lockhart struggled against the handcuffs. 

“Same here, it really was a pleasure doing business with you,” Nori said with a grin and ushered Thorin towards the door.

/What do we do now?/ Thorin signed, slightly out of his depth.

/We get our things from that unused classroom. On our way there, we think about how we’d love to send a valentine. That ought to make our dots turn pink on the maps and the others will figure out something is up. Once they find us, we get Gandalf and make him return us to the Blue Mountains. That is the only thing that might be a little tricky. We should have a little time before they find Lockhart though, so all we need is a good excuse./

Thorin nodded, then furrowed his brow. /Why did he have handcuffs and a gag? Is he a criminal? But why were the handcuffs made of fur?/

Nori grinned. /I wouldn’t be surprised if he was a criminal of one kind or the other, but I doubt that is why he had those. Let’s just concentrate on wanting to send valentines for now./


	8. Chapter 8

Thorin watched as the dots marking the other members of his company on the map drew nearer. 

Bombur was the first to come puffing around the corner. “This says you want a valentine delivered, Thorin?”

Before Thorin could answer, Dwalin sprinted around a different corner. He scanned the corridor for any immediate danger, then addressed Thorin. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

“Nori and I had a run in with Lockhart.”

“That nasty little elf-shagger! Where is he? I’ll...”

“We’ve taken care of it,” Nori said. “He’s not going to be a problem for us again soon.”

“We’ll tell you the details later,” Thorin said. “We’re leaving as soon as possible.”

“Did you kill him?” Ori asked, wide-eyed and clutching a collection of notes to his chest.

“No, of course not,” Thorin snapped. “He’s just... not exactly in a hurry to go anywhere. They’ll find him soon enough. Hopefully they’ll fire him as well, but that’s not our problem. I want to be gone before they find him.”

Thorin looked around at the dwarves that had gathered around them by now and counted them. Fíli was clutching his toga tightly, which was a bit strange, but he could always ask later.

“Dwalin, Dori, go and get Gandalf. Be subtle about it if at all possible. If necessary, tell him Ori isn’t feeling well and needs to go home. Why isn’t Bofur here yet? Bifur, would you go and fetch him?”

Bifur glanced at his map and saw Bofur in a room on the second floor. He nodded and hurried off.

 

Bifur entered the kitchen. Bofur sat on a chair, leaned back so his bulging belly had enough space and laughing as he told one of his countless stories.

Bofur looked up and grinned as Bifur approached. “Oh, everybody, this is my cousin Bifur! Bifur, you have got to try these black-currant éclairs! They are to die for!”

“Please do, Master Bifur!” one of the house-elves urged him, holding out a tray of éclairs.

Bifur obliged, smiling and nodding in thanks at the house elves.

/We really need to go soon,/ he signed to Bofur.

“But I can’t leave yet!” Bofur protested. “I haven’t tried everything!”

One of the elves stepped forward, barely visible behind the stack of boxes and bags he was carrying. “We have a little thank you for Master Bofur because you shared your mother’s recipes with us. You can share it with your friends.”

“Thank you so much!” Bofur exclaimed. “Your food really is among the best I’ve ever tasted and that is saying something. I have really enjoyed all your company!” 

He got up and nearly toppled over. “Oh, sorry! I thought there wasn’t any alcohol in that butterbeer?”

“Only a little bit, Master Bofur,” Dinky said, catching him at the elbow.

Bofur took the stack of food and nearly toppled over again when bowing towards the elves. Bifur helped Bofur out of the kitchen, making sure he didn’t push anything over.

“That was rather stronger stuff than I had imagined,” Bofur said when the door closed behind them. “And I’m more stuffed than I’ve ever been before. That food really was delicious though.”

/And you dare to say Bombur eats too much,/ Bifur signed, shaking his head.

“Well, it’s not going to stop me from delivering those valentines,” Bofur said, nearly managing to make not only himself but also Bifur fall over.

/You must have completely lost track of time./ Bifur signed. /It is late in the afternoon. We are leaving. You will have to make do with the ones you delivered before you joined the house-elves./

Bofur froze.

/What’s wrong?/

“That was the first valentine I delivered,” Bofur whispered. “Please, let me deliver a few more. I don’t want to lose and I don’t want to let down the company.”

/We really need to leave. Thorin and Nori seem to have had a confrontation with Lockhart and got enough money that the amount each one of us earned doesn’t matter. I’m not entirely sure what happened, but they seem keen to leave before any other trouble can come up./

 

The dwarves tumbled into a heap. Fíli looked up. There, familiar and reassuring, were the peaks of the Blue Mountains. He breathed a sigh of relief. He didn’t care that he would most likely have to take over all of the additional watches as long as he was out of that awful place. Not even Ori’s sharp bones poking into his stomach could impair his relief.

“Whew, you stink!” Kíli exclaimed, scrabbling away from Nori as quickly as possible. “Couldn’t you wait to break wind until you were a small distance away from us?”

“I didn’t!” Nori protested. “One of those awful students made me deliver a valentine that exploded and released that stench.”

“I don’t know why you are all complaining about the students,” Kíli said. “I thought they were rather nice. They taught me to play a really strange game in exchange for some archery lessons.”

“Weren’t you supposed to be delivering valentines?” Dwalin asked. “We worked through our embarrassment to earn that money and you just spent the day playing games? How much money did we get anyway? Is it enough despite Kíli slacking off?”

“Thanks to Nori, it ought to be,” Thorin said, producing the bags of money. “We demanded a little bonus for our humiliation, so in the end, it isn’t all that important who delivered how many messages.”

“Well, that’s nice,” Bofur declared. “Who is coming to the pub now that that’s done with?”

“I really don’t think you need to visit the pub right now,” Glóin said, watching Bofur sway where he stood. “And besides, we still need to find out who won our little contest. You were the one who was so keen on starting one after all.”

“Oh, never mind that,” Bofur said. “The most important thing is that we have our money, isn’t it?”

“No, let’s see how many we all have,” Óin said. “I had quite a good run and not having to keep watch seems like a pleasant prospect.”

They all took out their maps and put them on a great pile to compare them. 

“Hey, how did Kíli rack up so many?” Bofur asked. “I thought he spent the entire day playing games?”

Kíli shrugged smugly. “You just have to know how to get the rules to work for you.”

“Whose is this?” Dori asked. “It only lists one delivered valentine!” 

They all looked at the name and then stared at Thorin. Fíli tried not to let his relief show. He may have only delivered a few valentines before the incident with the toga made him hide in that broom closet, but it had been more than one.

“My map wasn’t working properly, alright?” Thorin snapped. “And we did get the money in the end, so it doesn’t matter. I’ll keep watch for whoever won, of course.”

They went back to looking at the other’s scores. In the end, it turned out that Bombur had delivered a few more valentines than Óin. Bombur blinked in disbelief. 

/See, never underestimate Bombur,/ Bifur signed gleefully towards Bofur. /He was willing to work hard and got far more than one measly valentine delivered./

Thorin flinched, but Nori caught on immediately. “Bofur also only delivered one?”

Glóin dug through the pile and pulled out Bofur’s. “He really did! I thought you wanted to win?!”

“I got caught up with those elves,” Bofur mumbled. “It is harder to leave them than it seems.”

/Now don’t go pretending they tied you onto a chair and wouldn’t let you leave,/ Bifur said.

Thorin and Nori exchanged glances.

/Look what those elves gave us as a parting gift!/ Bifur pointed at the stack of food.

“Oh, that’s great!” Kíli exclaimed. “You have no idea how hungry I am right now! Let’s get back to the settlement and have dinner!”

“Well, it looks like Thorin and Bofur will have to take over Bombur’s shifts!” Glóin declared. “Congratulations, Bombur! And now, let’s go and celebrate!”

The dwarves and Gandalf headed towards the settlement, patting Bombur on the back as they walked. A small cloud of butterflies still followed Bombur around.


End file.
